


Accolade

by WritingYay



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: Academy Awards, Boys In Love, Complicated Relationships, Declarations Of Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humour, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 00:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20380636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingYay/pseuds/WritingYay
Summary: “Academy Award winner, Taron Egerton.” Richard growls, raking his eyes up and down the suit-clad form of his co-star.Taron bites his lip with his front teeth as his eyes dazzle under the soft lights. “Mmm.” He murmurs, cradling the accolade in his hands like it was another necessary limb. “Sounds good, doesn’t it?”





	Accolade

“Hold my phone, Madden.” 

Richard lets out a small _oof_ as Taron’s iPhone connects with the fragile muscle below his pelvis. He looks up to find the man in question already out of his seat and looking around wildly for the quickest route out.

“Uh, why?”

Taron seems to be vibrating on the spot. His hands wring together over and over to form friction burns along his palms in plaits of red; nails worry-bitten and a darting gaze. “I need to piss again.”

Richard just sighs, and reaches forward to drag the younger man back into his chair by the hem of his suit jacket. “No you don’t.” Purposely, he keeps his voice low and calm in order to stop his flight-risk from sprinting. “You’ve been four times in the last hour, T. It’s just nerves, a’promise. Sit down- there’s a good lad.”

Taron groans miserably under his breath but obediently seats himself again. The room was thrumming with noise and warm bodies whilst the cameras temporarily shut to black for the last advert break of the evening. Most would imagine commercial breaks during The Oscars to be filled with champagne on ice and Michelin nibbles on gold platters, but the reality was far more mundane. Each three-minute window of opportunity to rest gracious smile-tortured faces was a cacophony of catch-ups with old colleagues, a chance to drink something other than sponsored alcohol and Taron Egerton panicking his tits off over his Best Actor nomination. 

“I’m gonna be sick.” He directs mournfully into the abyss and Richard can’t help but snort. Luckily, the other people gracing their row remained oblivious to Taron’s crumbling composure. Dexter finishes the punchline of his joke loudly to Richard’s left, and Elton laughs good-naturedly. David was busy chatting to Jamie about politics, so nobody was paying them much attention. Good; that meant that Richard could do this _his_ way.

“That would certainly make your speech memorable.” His nails pick at a splodge of spilt champagne marring the velvet covering of the unoccupied seat in front.

Taron blinks aggressively before elbowing the Scotsman in the shoulder. “_If_ I win.”

Richard laughs at him, and has to cower back to avoid the threat of the blonde’s fist swinging towards his sensitive collarbone. “_When_ you win, Taron.”

The pronunciation of Taron’s name tumbling from Richard’s smirking lips is his favourite. He seems to miss out the ‘r’ emphasis all together so he becomes _Ta-un_ which is incredibly unfair from somebody who can be classed as exotic as the Union Jack. 

“We’ll be back on air in twenty seconds, ladies and gentleman.” Somebody in a blue suit announces from the lectern’s microphones and Taron instantly pales. His collar bulges when he swallows heavily, flicking his eyes to Richard in dramatic desperation. 

“Madds-”

“Don’t.” Richard stops him gravely, and hands him the bottle of water he’s been secretly sipping from for the last gruelling two and a half hours. “Drink that, and stop worrying. You’re a phenomenal actor, with or without th’bloody Oscar.”

He gets a grateful smile from Taron in return that makes his chest ache. Even stress-rumpled and borderline irritating, Taron Egerton was the most beautiful man Richard Madden ever had the good fortune to meet, let alone fall for. Eventually, the lights fall dark again and the gentle buzz quietens. The TV filter rises to bask the stage in a soft glow, and the commentator pleasantly announces the next award.

Richard can genuinely taste Taron’s nerves from where he’s sitting and the bitter metallic tang is unwelcome to say the least. Without looking, he snakes his hand into Taron’s lap to entwine their fingers together under the cloak of the billowing shadows. He listens as a whooshing breath escapes his co-star’s lungs in a shaky exhale of comfort. They stay like that until Halle Berry and that one from The Last Jedi saunter onto the stage looking absolutely flawless to read out the nominations for Best Actor.

“Taron Egerton, Rocketman.” Halle grins into the main camera, not into the audience, and everyone claps politely. There are even a few whistles from the gallery that Richard knows belong to his own mother and Tina- two women who have already started looking for wedding fascinators even though Richard and Taron haven’t even had _that_ conversation yet. They weren’t officially together, just best-friends who fucked around and had astonishing emotional depth for _yeah mate, alright bro, nae’ bother pal._

Richard untangles their fingers just in time to join in with the clapping as the camera lazily wanders over to Taron and portrays his fixed half-grimace on the big screen with a small percentage of Richard’s face visible. Jamie nudges Taron in the arm from his other side and winks at him. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Taron whispers back, supressing the urge to jam his hands in his pockets and never pull them out again. “I have a feeling I’m gonna need it.”

The other nominations are read out. Only when hearing the names of Hollywood titans does a brief flash of uncertainty flash through Richard. Taron was up against some mighty actors with numerous Oscars already which dwarfed his limited experience in comparison. The man was only thirty and had years left to refine his performance to be Oscar worthy if he wasn’t successful tonight.

But he was _incredible_. His performance had astounded critics and audiences alike, and he’d managed to take the untouchable- Elton fuckin’ John- and mould the mystery into a story of vulnerability and resistance. 

“And the Oscar goes to-” Taron slips his eyes closed for a heartbeat, and Richard’s terrified the man’s actually stopped breathing. “Taron Egerton.”

God, what was he going to do if Taron hasn’t won? He doesn’t have any safety alcohol stored in the hotel room, just-

Hang on. Sorry, _what_?

Richard shudders as he’s slammed back into focus with a resounding jolt. Did he hear that right? Taron sits there with a slack jaw, frozen. Jamie clamps his hands around Taron’s neck and shakes, roaring into his personal space with flushed cheeks. The man of the hour turns to stare at Richard with eyes blown wide, but the Scotsman doesn’t know if he can move.

“Oh my fucking Christ.” Taron mutters, and suddenly his world shifts into a kaleidoscope of golden relief and noise. Loud, like a crescendo of support. It’s all claps on the back and yells of congratulations; garbled and meaningful and _beautiful_. 

“Humfugh.” Richard splutters. Whatever he tries to say gets halted by his utter speechlessness, so all that comes out is a spilt bag of Scrabble letters. The wall of sound enveloping them gets louder as Taron rises onto unsteady legs and surveys the entire room of smiling idols. All Richard can do is stand up shakily himself as Elton lurches forward to pull Taron into a crushing hug, sobbing. Then Taron turns to him again, and he loses all composure. 

“Fuck.” He yanks his best friend into his chest and buries his face in the man’s neck. Taron gasps breathily and fists his hands in the material of Richard’s suit as they stand there swaying for a moment right in the public’s eagle gaze. “My fuckin’- Taron you brilliant sodding _fucker_.”

He pulls back to stare right into Taron’s dazzling eyes and grins at him. He’s rewarded with one of Taron’s raw smiles that stretches from ear and ear and frames his teeth perfectly, like arching pink bunting. One more stolen moment, and Taron gently sidesteps him to shuffle into the aisle, letting out a strangled exhale as he goes. Jamie reaches over to clench a hand around Richard’s shoulder, so he melts into his friend’s offered hug like a puddle. Jamie knows, Jamie gets it. Everyone continues clapping until Taron has hugged both presenters and accepted the award. It twinkles against his pale skin, creating glowing shapes on his slender fingers. 

“Wow.” Taron projects into the microphone, and grins again when Dexter whistles obscenely loudly from their row. He’s pretty sure that the piercing whooping from the upper gallery is coming from his family, most notably his Mum. To be honest, it’s probably coming from Pat Madden as well. Those two together were unstoppable. “I have a horrible feeling that I’m dreaming right now.”

_Me too_, Richard whispers to himself, and hopes to every deity that this is reality.

“My deepest thanks to the Academy for this award, of which I am eternally grateful for.” He says, gesturing to the camera with a nod. “Thank you to my family, especially my amazing Mum and Dad and my sisters, for just going along with every mad decision I made growing up and for supporting me every step of this frankly ridiculous journey.” Someone cheers. “Uh, thank you to everyone at RADA for believing in me! And to every current student, look what can happen if you work hard!”

Jamie nods vigorously. Never taking his eyes off the younger man on stage, Richard steeples his fingers under his chin and lets his pride overwhelm him.

“Dexter Fletcher, you beautiful man,” Taron waves at Dex in the audience, who blows him a kiss. “Thank you for taking a chance on me with this film. It’s been the biggest privilege of my life so far and your direction added to that greatly. Thanks to Lee Hall- your writing is excellent mate- and Giles Martin. The entire supporting cast and crew, you’re all class and the film wouldn’t be what it is without your hard work. Uh, um, to one of my best mates, Jamie Bell, and the amazing Bryce Dallas Howard, thank you for being phenomenal! To Matthew Vaughn, as well, thank you. It’s kinda your fault I’m here, I guess? I bet you’re glad it’s all worked out, eh? Ah God, he’s gonna kill me when I next see him. Ah, Elton John: what do I say?” The mere mention of Elton’s name earns him more applause. Taron laughs aloud and scrubs a trembling hand along his cheekbone. “Getting the chance to play you in our beautiful love-affair of a film is still a sentence I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to say. Your inspiration, encouragement and friendship allowed me to flourish into something I really bloody hope you’re proud of- although, well, after this award I don’t think you really have a choice!” 

Elton throws his head back to holler through hysteric laughter.

“Oh, and David too, thank you for letting me probe your husband every minute of the day and for your patience!” Taron trails off to stare at the award, and he curls his fingers around it. “Ladies and gentlemen, there’s just one more person I need to thank before I leave you alone.” Insecure red climbs up his throat as people titter. “That person is that man right there in the Armani suit, the one who looks like he’s permanently modelling for GQ.” Richard swallows as heads turn to follow Taron’s pointed finger. “Richard Madden, it has been an honour to go to work every day and fall in love with you. You are honestly the best actor I’ve ever met- sorry Jay- and I could not have managed this project without you. I’m immensely proud of what we’ve managed to achieve with _Rocketman_ especially because it’s such an important film. You’ve never shied away from controversy or hardship and well…” he fixes Richard with a steady stare and shrugs mischievously. “I hope you know how highly I think of you. And I hope you’ve had as much fun as I’ve had.”

Richard’s world blazes into HD. The room erupts into louder claps as Taron bows and saunters off the stage. His heart swells three sizes into a pulsing ball of happiness, and it dawns on him in one breath that he loves that man. He loves Taron, the Oscar winner. He also loves Taron, the man who won’t sleep without something covering his legs and who could burn toast even if the toaster was off. God, how lucky was he?

Afterwards, they fall into Richard’s sprawling hotel room in tangled limbs of disbelieving hysterics and the heady excitement of each other. Taron had his own luxurious room, sure, but that was all window-dressing. They were like bloody magnets, constantly pulled together at the chest even after they’d tried to put their thing down and move on. It never worked. Thank fuck.

“Academy Award winner, Taron Egerton.” Richard growls, raking his eyes up and down the suit-clad form of his co-star. 

Taron bites his lip with his front teeth as his eyes dazzle under the soft lights. “Mmm.” He murmurs, cradling the accolade in his hands like it was another necessary limb. “Sounds good, doesn’t it?”

“You are just…” Richard begins, but can’t fetch a word incandescent enough to describe the blonde, so he ends up just shrugging. “Ugh.”

“I am just, ‘ugh’?” Taron repeats cheekily, jutting out his hipbone to lean against the four-poster bed seductively. 

Richard rolls his eyes and falls backwards to starfish out on top of the ivory covers. “Shuddup, you know what I mean.”

Taron snorts. “No, no, _ugh_ is good.” He replies, his Welsh accent absolutely mutilating the phonics as he injects a low growl into the emphasis. “That’s high praise, Richard.”

The Oscar gets firmly placed on the nearby dresser, and then suddenly Richard’s got a lapful of a 5’9 terror climbing over his thighs. Expecting Taron to perch himself over his crotch and start rolling his hips, Richard’s surprised to find that his arm is being lifted up so that Taron can snuggle up against his ribcage with one leg thrown haphazardly over his midriff. Taron sighs happily, his warm exhale tickling the fine hairs along Richard’s exposed neck. The long column instantly heats up from Taron’s forehead in content skin to skin contact.

“Is it bad that I’m beat?” 

Richard makes a soft noise of disagreement and cranes his neck to rest his cheek on top of Taron’s ruffled head. “Nah, it’s been a hella’ouva long night. I can fuck you six ways from Sunday tomorrow morning instead.”

“Kind of ya’.” Taron deadpans and pats Richard’s chest through his shirt. “Glad to hear I’m getting _something_ for being the best actor of the year.”

It’s clear that he’s joking, but Richard still pinches the curve of his arse in retaliation regardless. “Brat.”

“Your brat.” It’s quiet, so quiet he nearly misses it. The words send a wave of fond longing crashing through Richard’s chest, and he has to slip his eyes closed.

“Uh-huh.”

They both fall into a stunned silence, until-

“You know what I said in my acceptance speech,” Taron murmurs, his voice beginning to sound hoarse. “About it being an honour to have been able to work with you every day and fall in love with you?” 

Richard wets his lips and nods tentatively. He waits until Taron’s head shifts from his shoulder to drop onto his upper arm, and peers up at his jawline seriously. Respectfully, he drops his chin to catch the other man’s careful gaze in silence.

“Well, I meant it.” Taron continues. “An’ I don’t mean just Elton and Reid, I mean- um, well, the thing is Madden-”

“I love you too.”

Taron instantly stops like someone’s paused him. His eyes stare into Richard’s ice-blue ones blankly, with his mouth slightly open in utter shock. After the pause grows horrifyingly worrying, Richard inwardly panics that he’s dangerously overstepped a mark and it turns out that isn’t where Taron was going with it at all. Their entire friendship flashes through his mind and the possibility settles that _friends_ is genuinely all Taron believed there ever was. Cold dread crackles through Richard’s thumping veins, and he engages his voice to vehemently backtrack with laddish vulgarity when-

“Yeah?” Taron sounds in awe. His eyelashes flutter over his pupils daringly as a relieved blush spreads across his complexion. 

“Yeah.” Is the only thing Richard can think to say. That one whispered word on a late-night breeze ignites Taron’s soul again, and suddenly his expression is alive with emotion. “Jesus, T, I’ve been in love with you from the moment you shook my hand and made a joke about Dexter’s shoes when he was still in earshot.”

Taron’s replying laugh sounds like ringing glass. It’s clear and crisp and genuine and oh God, Richard’s won. He’s won at life. 

“So,” Taron shuffles on the bed to press himself impossibly closer to Richard’s heart. “What are we now? I’m only asking because I’m fairly sure Tina’s going to stage an intervention soon if we stay classed as best-friends.”

Luckily, Richard knows exactly what to say. “If you’re asking me if I want to date the 2020 Best Actor winner at the bloody Oscars,” he chuckles. “Then it’s a resounding yes, at this point and always.”

It’s possible that Taron actually whispers a quiet _wow_ at this, but Richard’s smirking too smugly to notice. He glances down at Taron’s expression of wonder, and curls his arm to raise his boyfriend’s head closer to him. Referring to Taron as his boyfriend after months of torturous tiptoeing around feelings is the best ripple of endorphins he’ll ever have, fact. His eyes flutter closed as their lips connect desperately; both men pouring their souls into the kiss in order to prove their want without getting too frisky and ruining the balance. Taron groans softly against his cupids bow and his back arches deliciously, but Richard weaves a hand up to his jaw to ground him. Slow, and gentle. Meaningful, this time. A moment of perfection going forward.

“We’re gonna have to get one of those for you at some point.” Taron says when they part for a lungful of crisp air. He waves his free hand in the general direction of the prestigious accolade, but Richard just scoffs and shakes his head.

“Don’t need one.” He mumbles, and moves onto his knees to roll Taron onto his back. “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve already _won_.”

**Author's Note:**

> After referencing the possibility of Taron winning an Oscar for Rocketman next year in two of my previous works, I felt it was only right to write something fluffy and rather cute.
> 
> I've been watching a lot of Oscar-themed YouTube to work out the best way to set this, so if it's not correct... actually you know what, I'm only 18, give me a break and look past the mistakes :)
> 
> Hope you squealed x


End file.
